


Two Times Angela Ziegler Fucked (Up)

by TheNerdPrincess



Series: As I Run (Mercy Smut Series) [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (a lot of biting), Assault, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Biting, Bondage, Build Up Focus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Hate Sex, Jack is sexually frustrated, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, Light Sadism, Mercy76, MercyKill to come, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Yay second chapter tags, light roleplay, ok lets see, tags will be updated with the second chapter, which will be very uh--dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7528630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNerdPrincess/pseuds/TheNerdPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela Ziegler did her best to avoid involving herself with her coworkers beyond...casually friendly levels.<br/>She failed at that once.<br/>Well, technically twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Doctor Is In

Angela Ziegler did her best to avoid involving herself with her coworkers beyond...casually friendly levels.

She failed at that once.

Well, technically twice.

 

The first time was during the golden time of Overwatch. Well, it was the golden time, but also a dangerous time. The UN began assigning more and more to Commander Morrison, and heroes stopped coming forward. It seems those with superhuman abilities were in short supply: shorter when they kept being sent on deadly missions.

Jack Morrison’s frustration grew exponentially with the amount of paperwork on his desk. Eventually it boiled over, and he ended up leaving a dozen new recruits in tears after a harsh handful of words. 

Angela would not allow it. She had watched one of her closest friends begin to spiral, and as she marched to his room she swore to put an end to it, no matter what it took.

_ Slam! _

“Jack, what the hell is your problem?” 

The small Swiss woman stood silhouetted in the doorway, one hand on the door she had just flung open. Sitting slouched at his desk, Jack picked his head up from the hand it had been resting in, pale blue eyes icy and dull.

“What do you want?”

His voice, slow and slightly slurred, caught the doctor’s attention. She narrowed her eyes, closing the door and stalking closer to him.

“Jack Morrison...you’re drunk.”

Sloppily throwing his hands out to the side, he admitted it to her.

“What’re you gonna do about it, doc? Send me to medical?”

Opening her mouth to speak, she was cut off.

“See,” he continued, standing and keeping a few fingers on his desk to balance himself, “I know you. You care  _ so _ much about every. Stupid. Little. Thing. You wouldn’t subject my agents to seeing their leader in such a...shit-faced state.”

Anger flushed Angela’s high cheekbones.

“You’re right, though I hate to admit it. Sit down, I’m going to try and sober you up so we can talk about whatever’s been up with you lately.”

“Only one thing up about me right now,” Jack mumbled, moving to the bed and sitting down. For better or worse, the doctor didn’t hear.

She emerged from the bathroom with a cup of water, handing it wordlessly to her superior. He took a sip and set it aside.

“Ah no-”

“Oh, hush. I’m fine. If I couldn’t function after a few shots I wouldn’t be an army man, would I? Besides, the stuff they shot me with to make me all ‘super’ accelerates blood flow. I’m already sobering up.”

“Good.”

Now she didn’t have to baby a drunk, Angela sat beside him on the bed, tone cold and spine straight as a rod.

“Now talk.”

“Ziegler, I’m fine-”

“Clearly not. I spent half an hour reassuring brand new recruits that you weren’t a monster. You need to pull yourself together.”

“I said I’m fine.” His tone darkened slightly, warning her to stay away. Uncaring, she plowed forward.

“Well I don’t believe you, so we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“What’s the hard way?”

“I refer you to psychiatric care for an evaluation to see if you’re fit to work.”

Jack growled, running a hand through his pale blonde hair, mussing it up and sending half of it flopping over his eyes.

“Don’t test me, Morrison. I will do it if I think you or those around you are in danger,” she warned. He knew she was right.

Shooting to his feet, the commander paced back and forth, step only slightly unsteady.

“Jack-”

“Dammit, woman!”

He whirled around, facing her.

“I have no outlet for any of my stress, how do you think I’m handling it?”

She stood too, moving to his side and lightly touching his arm. A vein pulsed in his neck, and his tight jaw sported the day’s stubble.

“If that is the case I can refer you to a therapist in private.”

“That won’t work.”

“Now, I know psychiatry has a stigma around it, but-”

Tightly grabbing both of Angela’s forearms, Jack practically lifted her off her feet as he pushed her backwards and pinned her against the wall.

His breath was hot and fast on her ear as he nearly pressed his body against hers, whispering in a strained tone.

“No, Angela. That won’t work.”

As he spoke his hips pressed sharply against hers, drawing a gasp from the frozen doctor.

“Why--oh…”

She could feel his erection sitting against her hip, throbbing even through his trousers. As if confirming it was real, her hand slowly lowered to brush against it, causing the man to rest his head against the wall next to her. Another stroke of her fingers drew a long groan from his lips.

“This is why you’ve been so aggressive lately?” she asked softly. Jack’s dick ached as she moved her hand away.

He swallowed, nodding. It was all he could do to not take her right there. The way her golden hair curled tantalizingly along the soft, pale skin of her neck…

“And…” her voice stuttered slightly, “i-if you were to...find release. It would help, no?”

Uhg, her accent. It drove Jack up the wall, like a tiny bit of lace peaking out from beneath a dress. Focusing on his breathing, he nodded again.

Like a miracle, her fingers wrapped around his cock again. Every bone in his body (especially the extra one) was screaming at him to take that as consent, to rip her tight little uniform off her and claim her until the entire dorm unit knew who she belonged to...but he didn’t. He restrained himself, praying to every deity he knew of that she would say yes.

“Well…” drifting for a moment, she seemed to make her decision. “You are my patient, and more than that you are the commander, and you should always be in peak condition. If this will help—”

She palmed him through his trousers. “--then it is my duty as your Primary Care Provider to assist.”

He was unable to hold back any longer. Before the last word had faded from the heavy air around them he buried his face in her neck, biting hard at first and eliciting from her the most delicious cry of pain and pleasure he had ever heard. One big, scarred hand went to her ass, mauling and groping it without restraint, growling possessively into her neck as he began to make another mark on it. The other hand instantly found its way to her chest, squeezing and massaging as if she was the first woman he had ever touched.

Head tilted back, Angela surrendered herself to him, whimpering encouragement as she dug her fingers into his back. Then he pulled back, leaving her flushed and disheveled. Her uniform was messed and hair falling out of the (usually) neat ponytail she kept it in. Blue eyes dark with lust, she watched him in confusion.

Grinning, Jack withdrew a knife and flicked it open, causing Angela’s breath to catch in her throat.

“Trust me,” was all he said before grabbing the collar of her button down shirt and slicing through it in one clean cut. It fell to the floor, unhindered, leaving her suddenly shy in only a simple, lace-edged black bra and her work slacks. Eyes roving hungrily over her body, he soaked in every detail.

“Strip,” he ordered, divesting himself of his own clothes as quickly as possibly without taking his penetrating gaze off of her. Her fingers fumbled for a long moment with the button at her waist, possibly having something to do with the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off of his now-bare cock, but finally,  _ finally _ she managed to undo it, letting them fall to the floor.

Her panties didn’t match her bra, instead just a plain white, and for some reason he couldn’t explain Jack  _ really _ liked it. Lips colliding sloppily, he manhandled her onto the bed, pinning her down with his body as he absorbed her. 

Everything about her turned him on. From the way she tasted like raspberries to the way her breath stuttered and caught every time he broke their kiss, to the shy but persistent grind of her narrow hips against his—he was addicted, and he knew it. 

“Jack--ah, Jack, ple-please-” she gasped as he let her breathe. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as one of his hands found its way between her legs.

“Aw, so wet already, angel?” 

Biting her lip, Angela desperately ground her hips against the fingers he pressed to her, needy noises escaping with every brush. Her eyes stayed locked on his, the depth of the ocean and dripping with desire. Not breaking his gaze, Jack slowly sat back, stroking the insides of her thighs, her hips, everywhere except where she truly wanted him. Brushing his fingers up her legs, he hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties on each side. With no warning but a smirk, he yanked them down to her ankles. Angela gasped and tried to close her legs or cover herself, but he quickly moved between her them, his knees spread to keep her exposed.

“I see you shaved~” he commented, a tantalizing finger barely brushing over her glistening folds. Her only reply was a high pitched whimper and frantic bucking of her hips as she bit her knuckle to try and silence herself.

“No,” he said, voice suddenly domineering. He swooped forward, hands on either side of her head, stern face above hers. “I want to hear every noise you make.”

Gulping, she moved her hands around his neck, gaining a feral smile.

“Hold on tight angel, you’re about to fly straight to heaven.”

With that he grabbed her body with his warm hands and thrust into her, forcing her to take him all the way in one go.

“JaaaaAAAACK!” A soft moan escalated to a scream of pleasure as he filled her. Not allowing her to settle, he began pounding into her, feeling frustration melt away with every thrust.

“Ahh, ahh, Jaaack, ah mein Gott!”

Her accent. Not just that, but her native language. Jack’s teeth were instantly on her neck, feeling her blood racing as he marked her over and over. As he ran his tongue over the quickly forming bruises he felt her tighten around him.

“Ohhh, fuck, angel,” he grunted, finding it almost difficult to keep moving. Everything was beginning to overwhelm him, and he could feel the throbbing in his cock intensifying. 

“Jack, Jack,” she panted, desperately grabbing his hair and dragging him to touch his forehead to hers. Her eyes closed as she writhed helplessly beneath him, another orgasm peaking.

“An-Angela--fuck!”

Driving himself so deep his balls slapped against her ass, Jack came hard inside her, painting her walls white with rope after rope of sperm. 

Once the stars faded from dancing in front of his eyes, he looked down. Angela was limp beneath him, breathing hard, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Feeling his gaze on her, she looked up.

“Is your stress relieved adequately, commander?” she questioned with a small smile. Jack returned the expression.

“I dunno doc. I think I may need a check up appointment...or multiple.”

Cheeks tinted pink, she nodded.

“I think I can arrange that.”


	2. In-Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the trail of vigilante Mccree, Mercy runs into someone she didn't exactly want to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihi! This is just a quick in between chapter to set up for the Reaper x Mercy and let y'all know I'm not dead. So sorry about disappearing.   
> I listened to this while writing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec_qnNB8vhA&t=4370s  
> Next chapter should follow quickly!

Angela dropped her deceptively heavy backpack with a sigh, raising a cloud of dust from the mattress it had landed on and a squeaky protest from the springs beneath. Brushing a frizzy lock of hair out of her eyes, she took in her lodgings for the night.

Peeling wallpaper?  _ Check. _

Small, grimy window?  _ Check. _

Probable nest of squirrels in the roof?

A symphony of skitters sounded above her head.

_ Check. _

“When Winston sent me to get Jesse he could have at least given me a little more in the funds department,” she grumbled beneath her breath. The cowboy was being particularly elusive, jumping all around Central America while trying to dismantle the major drug cartels. Angela’s investigations had led her here, to a run down town on the coast of Mexico named Dorado.

Feeling her stomach rumble dismally, she recalled a smokey bar not far from the “hotel” she would be sleeping in. Unfortunately, it had seemed to be the only establishment open at this time of night that may serve something edible, so, despite the grungy atmosphere, she made her way to it.

 

Or at least, she would have.

 

Halfway between her hotel and the bar, the streetlights ahead of her flickered and died. The doctor hesitated at the edge of the shadows, peering into the night. However, her hunger drove her forward, and the determined clicking of heels on cracked pavement was the only sound on the street apart from the distant, raucous laughter and chatter from the bar. She almost missed the  _ shhhhhhhhk _ that signaled danger in every corner of her mind. 

Wheeling around, she drew her pistol in one fluid motion, steel blue eyes fixed on the recently-materialized mask of her opponent. 

“Gabriel. If you’re even in there anymore.”

She spat his name, anger burning the edges of her every word. The smirk in his voice was obvious.

“Angela. Good to see you too, Doc.”

“What do you want?”

He stepped closer, until their chests were practically touching. Angela felt very vulnerable, looking up into the empty blackness of his mask’s eyes, her lack of armour weighing on the back of her mind. Her pistol remained aimed up at his head, although her wrists were pressed against her body to avoid touching him.

“Can’t a man just catch up with an old coworker?” 

She scowled.

“Don’t mock me. You’re no man, not anymore.”

The shadows around them deepened as Reaper glowered, seeming to grow taller.

“Oh no?” 

He growled, and a shotgun appeared in each of his hands. The doctor paled. She had gone too far. Alone in an alley in the middle of nowhere, he was about to murder her. He raised his left arm, gun in hand, and muttered something under his breath. It was now or never. Angela squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her trigger three times.

 

Instead of the dull thump of her blaster’s bullets hitting flesh, the sound reverberated off the houses on either side of the street. Eyes flying open, Angela whipped her head from left to right, scanning the area, but there was no sign of her target. Something hit the back of her knees hard, and she fell to the ground. This assault was quickly followed up by a strike to her wrist with the butt of a shotgun, sending her Caduceus blaster skittering out of reach. Planting a heavy knee in between her shoulders and trapping her left arm with his other leg, Reaper brought a cloth soaked in a sweet smelling liquid to cover Angela’s nose and mouth. She struggled, attempting to claw at him with her free hand, but all she did was rip a small strip from his coat. He chuckled, leaning down. As her head began to swim, he whispered in her ear, breath surprisingly hot on her neck.

“Oh Doctor Ziegler, I am  _ so _ going to enjoy this.”


	3. The Angel and The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper goes to town on our favourite doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, not super happy with this, I'll likely come back and change it at some point. But hey, it exists, which is better than it not existing right? Right? Guys?

Angela came to beneath a single bare lightbulb, with her wrists bound together and pulled above her head with rough rope. Her arms and back ached—she must have been like this for quite some time. Take mental stock of her situation, she was relieved to find herself in the same grimy blue tank top and cream (now a sort of brown-grey) capris. A lock of hair that had escaped her usually immaculate ponytail fell into her face, drawing her eyes up. In the shadows at the corner of the room, she saw a dark figure lounging in a chair, legs spread and leaning his weight on his right elbow, which rested on the armrest. His ghostly white mask almost seemed to float in the blackness.

 

“I see you’ve woken,” he commented unnecessarily, chair creaking as he rose to his feet. He walked up to her, stepping into the dull light.

Angela had never noticed how  _ big _ he was. Not just height, but every part of him was solid muscle beneath coat and armour. His boots clunked on the wooden floorboards til he stood before her. Raising one hand, he ran a crooked finger down her cheek, the cold metal of his gauntlet claw making her shiver.

(Yes, it was definitely that, and not the fact that she was barefoot, unarmed, and tied up in front of a Talon agent.)

“What are you doing, Gabriel? How does this end? You know I was meeting Jesse, he’s probably already on his way here already.”

Reaper chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that might have been attractive if it were not coming from an emotionless serial contract murderer.

“Ah, but you weren’t meeting him, were you? Only tracking him. Hoping he was somewhere in Dorado, and that you’d be able to find him before he moved on.”

A chill ran down Angela’s spine.

“How long have you been following me?”

“Long enough to know I have plenty of time before the cowboy figures out where you are.”

“Enough time f-for what?”

Angela cursed her stutter, a materialization of fear that only encouraged the man in front of her.

But Reaper seemed to not hear her, instead turning away and pacing the outer edge of the light.

“Do you remember back when we were all stationed at Gibraltar, recruiting and training  _ verduras _ ?”

He spoke the last word with disdain, clearly holding the believers in Overwatch in no high regard.

“Ah, well, yes. We all worked very hard.”

Behind her now, he let out a bark of laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure you did. Very hard work, fucking the commander, isn’t it?”

“Gabriel, it was years ago, surely you don’t—”

“Surely I don’t  _ what _ , Angela?”

He was behind her now, claws digging into her sides, poking holes in her shirt and pressing against her skin as he pulled her back against him.

“Don’t still hold against you the dozens of sleepless nights? Don’t still regret not outing the two of you for the worthless fuckbuddies you were? Don’t wish I had you both fired so I could have led Overwatch instead of watching that blonde dumbass run it into the ground? Nooo, of course not.”

He stepped away, muttering, “Tu perra estúpida.”

“No, little doctor, what I really hold against you is this.”

Stepping in front of her, he gestured to himself with a sweeping motion.

“And yes, shortly I will mean that in every sense of the word.”

Angela’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what he meant, her toes scrabbling for purchase as she tried to back away from him.

“Oh, is the woman who played god afraid to face her creation?”

He reached up, pressing the releases of his mask. 

“Well, doctor, here he is. Prepare to get to know him  _ very _ well.”

The doctor took in the man her friend had become. His skin was haunted with a grey pallor, deep scars crisscrossing his nose and cheeks. But the worst was his eyes. They burned with a dark, almost black red. He smirked at her shellshocked reaction.

“Not so pleasant to look at as I used to be, eh?”

“I...I’m so sorry, Gabe.”

His eyes sparked with something feral. 

“No estoy tan arrepentida como vas a estar,” he whispered, shedding his coat. He began to unbuckle his gauntlets, but glanced at her and smiled.

“I think I’ll leave these on,” he said, casually reattaching them. Angela felt her stomach drop. “I’ve learned to handle them very well, but you,” he unbuttoned his trousers, chatting as if they were discussing the weather. “Well, I think you may have some trouble. You’re a smart girl though, you’ll figure it out.”

He gave her a condescending wink, pulling his hardening cock out of his pants and wrapping a hand around it, giving it a few tugs. He had clearly done this in battle gear before.

“Is this who you’ve become, Gabriel?” Angela spoke quickly, stumbling over her words in an effort to stop him slowly advancing on her. “A murderer, now a rapist? You never would have done this. It isn’t you.”

“But Doctor Ziegler,” he paused setting a claw at her neckline and dragging down, slitting her shirt open and leaving a tiny line of blood to bead to the surface of her pale skin. “This is who you made me. Or don’t you remember all those secret operations with untested technology you performed? Weeks of unending pain and torture, all for an existence hardly worth living.”

He hooked her tank strap and sliced through it too, the fabric falling away. 

“Hmph, sports bra. Not what you would have worn for Commander Moron, I’d reckon. Best to do away with it.”

“No Gabe, please, please,” Angela’s voice cracked slightly as tears jumped to her eyes. This was real.

“Shh, it’s alright  _ angel _ .” 

The name was a mocking one, clearly something he had heard through the thin wall between his and Jack’s rooms all those years ago. 

“I’ll make sure you enjoy this too,” he promised, cleanly slicing away her bra and letting it fall to the floor to join her shirt. Leaning down, he wrapped his hands around and grabbed two large handfuls of her ass, pulling her forward so he could kiss up the line of blood he had left between her breasts. He then pressed his lips to hers. It was a rough, dispassionate kiss. None of the sparks or fire was there that she had experienced with other lovers, it was simply skin on hot skin, the coppery taste of blood slipping into her mouth along with her tongue. His grip on her ass tightened as he dug his claws into her skin, pulling up to leave shallow, matching gashes on each side. She gasped, face tightening in pain.

“Fuck!” 

“That’s the plan,” he commented, shedding his gauntlets at last. Unbuttoning her trousers, he crouched, pulling them off. As he reached for her panties she began to struggle again, attempting to kick him. He caught her ankles in a vise, looking up at her.

“This will go easier if you don’t.”

The fight drained out of her, and in a sign of submissiveness she let her legs hang limp again. He nodded, releasing them.

“Good girl.”

Hearing those two words caused a visceral reaction, memories of being praised in the bedroom, and summarily rewarded flooding her thoughts. She barely even noticed Gabriel had pulled her panties off until a finger gently prodded at her folds and she heard him chuckle. 

“Wet for me, princesa?”

Shocked back into the present by his words, she tried to press her legs closed, face flushing in shame.

“Ah ah ah~”

He pushed them apart, grinning.

“You’re allowed to enjoy it. I like to think I still have a certain amount of skill.

“Dumbom,” she gritted her teeth.

“Doesn’t take a Swedish interpreter to figure that one out,” he replied. “We’ll see who’s the idiot.”

His tongue flicked over her folds, tasting her. Taken off guard, a quiet moan escaped Angela’s lips before she quickly cut it off. Gabriel bit her inner thigh hard, almost enough to break the skin as she squirmed in pain, trying not to fight back. When he drew back from sucking at the tender skin, he ran a thumb over his work proudly.

“Even with your healing, that won’t be going away soon I think.”

He stood, lifting Angela’s drooped head.

“I want to hear everything,” he ordered, staring her right in the eyes. Before she could stop herself, Angela replied how she had been trained to. 

“Yes sir.”

He grinned widely, positioning himself at her entrance.

“Good girl.”

His eyes studied her face as he spoke, noting her muted reaction.

“Oho, you like that, do you? Morrison trained you well. I may have to send you back with a thank-you note.”

Angela whimpered as he ground his hips slightly, rubbing against her and enjoying the expressions of alternating pleasure and anger that crossed her face. Balling a fist in her hair, he drew her close, biting her neck directly beneath her jaw before whispering in her ear.

“I’m going to make you enjoy this. You won’t sleep another night without thinking of me.”

He pushed into her, instantly thrusting deep and fast, savoring her screams as he grabbed her ass, pulling her into him. Her blood painted his palms, although she was already beginning to heal thanks to the various serums she had tested on herself. Groping her, he pulled back a hand and gave her a light spank, then groaned as she tightened around him.

“Could it be that the famous Doctor Ziegler is a dirty little masochist?” he mused aloud. Spanking her again, harder this time, he relished the whimpers she let out. “Damn, Morrison never knew what he had, did he princess?”

He slowed in his brutal assault on her cunt, thrusting at a calmer, even pace. 

“You love being hurt, don’t you?”

She shook her head, unable to form words. Quick as a snake, he wrapped a bloody hand around her neck, squeezing. The noises coming from her were not panicked or painful, but rather those of pleasure, as he felt her warmth around his cock. He smiled, releasing her and letting her rest a moment as she coughed and regained her breath.

“I think you are. No one but the filthiest masochist would cum on her rapist's cock as she’s being choked, would they?”

She whispered something, voice hoarse with screaming and being choked. 

“What was that? Speak up, now.”

She grit her teeth and looked him in the eye, hair hanging around her face, blood and dirt speckling her skin.

“Fuck. Me.”

“If you insist~”

He returned to fucking her hard, and made her cum another two times before releasing inside her. Her eyes closed as he pulled out, their mixed cum dripping onto the floor.

“Ah ah, we aren’t done yet, wake up now,” he said, slapping her cheek a few times. Drawing a knife, he cut her down. She yelped as her locked muscles were suddenly forced into a different position. Half leading, half dragging her over to the chair, he propted her up so her arms were draped over the back, supporting her, while her ass was presented to his appreciative eyes. 

He was slower this time, enjoying each and every thrust. It didn’t take him very long to finish again, filling her. 

“Well, doc, I really hope you have some sort of birth control at that makeshift lab you have tucked away somewhere,” he said, staying inside her. A noise outside caught his attention, and after listening for a moment, he pulled out quickly and dressed. The last item he retrieved was his mask, which clicked into place with finality. Before leaving, Reaper crossed once more to the unmoving doctor and ran a hand up her bare back. He then set the tip of his gauntlet at the centre of her lower back and scratched something there. 

Footsteps sounded outside, along with the sound of someone hitting their head, and a distinctly American curse. 

“Til next time,  _ min prinsessa _ ,” he promised, then disappeared out a small window, smoke blown away by the wind.

The door to the room was flung open and Jesse McCree stepped in, Peacekeeper at the ready. A moment confirmed the room was clear, and he ran to Angela’s side as she began to stir.

“Jesus Christ Ang, what happened?” he asked in a hushed, horrified voice, so distracted by the blood and wounds all across her body he nearly missed the cum puddle forming on the floor beneath her. 

“G...ga—”

“Reaper,” he filled in for her, seeing the fresh ‘R’ carved into the base of her back. Pulling off his poncho, he covered the doctor.

“C’mon girlie, let’s go get you cleaned up.”


End file.
